


Summer Camp

by Firestar385



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Summer Camp, Superheroes, batbros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestar385/pseuds/Firestar385
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Tim Drake attends a summer camp at Wayne Enterprises, created to introduce middle and high school students to science and engineering.  He's excited just to learn more about WE technology, but wouldn't it be cool to meet his idol, Batman, via WE president Bruce Wayne?</p><p>After spending the morning and afternoon in his day camp, Tim wanders around Wayne Tower and runs into Lucius Fox, who in turn introduces him to Bruce Wayne.  Tim's inner-fanboy can't be contained and he inadvertently admits his ground-breaking revelation that he knows Gotham's vigilantes' true identities.  It changes his life, and the Batfamily's, drastically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> A fun little piece about little Tim Drake meeting Batman and Robin ahead of schedule. I'm curious to see if anyone thinks this story is worth continuing. Either way, please enjoy!

### Chapter One: Day One

Ten year old Tim Drake could barely contain his excitement as he stepped off of the subway car and into the station in the basement of the Wayne Enterprises Building. He slipped his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and hurried across the richly tiled floor toward the elevator that would take him to the lobby. It was barely seven in the morning and check-in for the two-week summer day camp didn't start until nine, but Tim hadn't been able to bear waiting another minute in his empty house. He was going to spend six (or more, if his dreams came true) hours a day for the next ten business days near the company's Research and Development sector, getting exposure to the world of advanced technology and computer science.

His expensive, and thankfully compact, camera bounced against his chest as he speed walked to the elevator bank and deftly dodged the distracted adults who weren't expecting a small, unattended child to be darting between them at that hour. Tim was planning to take as many pictures of the inside of the technology Mecca as he was allowed, just in case his eidetic memory failed him. Tim didn't want to lose a moment of this experience. 

The pristine, marbled lobby of the towering structure was just as busy as the subway station, making it easy for Tim to go unmarked by the army of receptionists seated in a neat line behind their continuous desk. He had to push up on his toes to read the plaque under the first display case he came to, which featured a large chunk of twisted metal and severed wires. He grinned as he scanned the short description of the "mishap" that resulted in the destruction of Patrick Wayne's first supercomputer. 

The next display case held an early prototype of a robotic arm that had been developed under the direction of Martin Cannan, the head of the R&D department during the time between Thomas Wayne's untimely death and his son Bruce's reluctant ascension to the head of the company. A small LCD screen mounted on the plexiglass at the back of the case played a loop of the current robotics research taking place at the company. Tim watched all five minutes of it three times, grinning the whole time. At least one learning session during his camp would revolve around robotics. 

More display cases featured history from the company's other divisions, including transportation, medical, biotechnology, and many smaller sectors that were just waiting for their day to shine. 

The alarm on Tim's tiny digital watch beeped at eight forty-five, causing his excitement to ratchet up yet again. He spun around quickly so he could make sure that he was first in line to register and therefore had the maximum time to read through all of the notes on the coursework that had been promised when he received his acceptance packet in the mail. He hadn't noticed anyone stepping up behind him to survey the brief timeline of the company until he smacked face first into the man's stomach.

"Whoa, slow down, kid," said the man, grasping Tim's upper arm gently to help the child regain his balance. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't--" Tim looked up at the stranger he'd just inconvenienced and his words died on his tongue. The middle-aged African American gentleman sporting narrow frame glasses and a perfectly fitted suit had been on the cover of _Business Monthly_ enough times for it to be impossible for Tim to not recognize him. "I… I…"

"Surely I'm not that scary," the man said, smiling softly. "I have a daughter about your size, you know."

"M-mister Fox," Tim finally stammered out. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you--"

"I'm not in the least bit harmed, young man. What's your name, son?"

"Tim." The child swallowed nervously, and realized with embarrassment that he'd gone tongue-tied again. "Uh, Drake," he added as an afterthought. "I'm here for the summer camp!"

"Tim Drake," Lucius Fox repeated. "Any relation to Jack Drake over at DI?"

"He's my father," Tim admitted. "But their company doesn't offer programs like this and I just love what you do here and I wanted to learn--"

Mr. Fox laughed. "Relax, son. You're welcome here, though I thought the camp was meant for middle and high schoolers. Is your father milling about here somewhere?"

"No, my mother brought me," Tim lied. Both of his parents were currently abroad, investigating a new archeology site along the Nile River. "She's using the powder room." Tim's watch beeped again and the child bit his lower lip when he realized that he was now five minutes behind schedule. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fox, but registration opens at nine and--" 

"Of course. Punctuality is important. I hope you enjoy the camp. We'll convert you over to the dark side in no time."

Tim grinned in response to Mr. Fox's teasing smile. "You won't have to try very hard, sir."

The man stepped aside so Tim could continue to the second floor conference room where he would present his acceptance card in exchange for his orientation materials and find his seat at the front of the classroom. The volunteer at the check-in desk barely glanced at him when he handed over the card and she checked his name off of the list of students. "This is for your parents; parent orientation is in room 216. Student orientation is in room 218."

"Thanks," Tim said. "I'll let my mom know." He slipped away from the table and easily found room 218. The room was clearly used for this type of activity on numerous occasions, as it was decorated with more posters and placards honoring the company's long transition from a shipping and chemical company to the leader in multiple fields. Tim was torn between reading all of the blurbs or flipping through his syllabus and scanned notes. In the end, he settled into a seat behind the first row of tables and consoled himself that he'd probably already knew everything that the posters could tell him, anyway. 

A boy nearly twice his size took the seat next to Tim. Tim smiled up at him. "Hi, I'm Tim," he offered. He didn't have many (any) friends and while he'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that he was destined to be the freakish loner who was obsessed with computers and superheroes, he couldn't help hoping that one day he'd meet someone who could stand to spend more than five minutes with him. Usually his potential friendships with kids his age died right about the same time he opened his mouth and started speaking in what apparently amounted to a foreign language. But this camp was supposed to be for bright kids who were interested in engineering and technology careers, so he let himself hope he'd meet a kindred spirit.

"Daniel," the kid replied, and his voice cracked on the last syllable. Tim guessed that he was about fifteen then. Daniel's face colored under his smattering of freckles and he cleared his throat self-consciously. Tim wasn't about to judge him - he couldn't wait until he hit puberty. Maybe he'd finally hit the growth spurt that he'd been denied his whole life. 

"It's nice to meet you," Tim continued, putting to use the social cues he'd learned from studying characters' dialogue on television and reading his mother's romance novels. "Have you been to a camp like this before?"

"No, this is my first," said the older boy awkwardly. "My dad's an engineer and he thinks that if I just got some exposure to it, that I'd want to follow in his footsteps. Honestly, I have no idea what the difference is between a semi-conductor and a capacitor. These two weeks are going to be grueling."

"Hey, that you even know such things exist is a start," Tim said, trying to be encouraging. 

A second boy sat down next to Daniel and the two appeared to know each other from school. Daniel didn't bother to introduce Tim to the new kid, nor did he acknowledge the small boy's presence again. Tim sighed to himself and brushed off his short pang of disappointment. He settled into flipping through the notes until the camp director stepped up behind the podium. 

After a short lecture about rules and how the camp would be run, the kids were taken on a tour on the building. Tim wasn't surprised that they didn't get anywhere near the upper floors where such legends as Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne himself had offices. Meeting the CEO of the company had been an unexpected joy that Tim had never imagined happening, so he definitely wasn't holding his breath for a run-in with the president. 

Tim listened to their tour guide with split attention as he tried to peek into every open door they passed. He wondered if he'd see any sign of the company's secret support of Gotham City's very own Dark Knight. He doubted that Batman would be negligent enough to leave obvious clues within the halls of his company, but Tim knew he was sharper than most and if anyone would spot the hidden link, it would be him. After all, last year he'd finally figured out that Robin and his civilian hero, Dick Grayson, were one and the same, leading to the avalanche conclusion that Bruce Wayne was Batman and now that Dick had become Nightwing, the billionaire's new ward, Jason Todd, was filling in as the Boy Wonder. 

Tim thought there was nothing that could surpass being adopted by Batman and becoming Robin, not even being a prince or a movie star. He was very much jealous of Dick and Jason, despite how much he idolized them. 

The tour ended and the kids were led to the cafeteria for lunch. With his orientation packet, Tim had received a card for use in the expansive food court. He wasn't much of a foodie and ate just enough to fuel his academic and athletic pursuits, so he was happy enough to settle for a chicken Caesar salad at the first stall he came to. He sat at the end of a table filled with other campers and was summarily ignored, so he amused himself by pulling out his tablet and opening the CAD software that he was using to work on his own personal foray into computer hardware. 

Tim had been struck with the idea of inventing a hand-held device that could be used to analyze forensics evidence, such as blood, tissue, hair, fingerprints, etcetera, without having to wait for access to a lab. Maybe when he was older, he could actually build such a device and offer it to Batman for use. As far as he could tell, the caped crusader was still stocking his utility belt with evidence collection gear and wasting precious case-solving time driving back and forth to the mysterious Batcave. 

The afternoons were meant to be short, with a two-hour lab on a different topic each day filling out the last session. There were an odd number of students in Tim's group and instead of bothering a duo of paired up eighth graders, Tim took up his seat at the last station by himself. He was too eager to start playing with the bits and pieces of electronics before him to be too upset at being forgotten yet again. He raced through the pre-lab reading and answered the comprehension questions in under a minute, leaving him nearly the whole two hours to tinker with the kit before him. Unfortunately, Tim had a working device within thirty minutes. He frowned at the blinking box and wished that he'd thought to bring one of the spare hard drives he had at home. He'd make sure to remember it tomorrow. Bored, he doodled on the plastic with his permanent marker. 

"Hi… Tim," said the lab assistant, Meghan, greeted upon stopping next to his table. She smiled nicely at him. "Are you having trouble with the lab?"

"No," he replied. He poked at the box and all of the correct lights started blinking to show her that he'd finished already. Meghan blinked a couple of times in surprise.

"Uh, well… have you seen this kit before?"

Tim stopped himself just before he said no. "Yeah," he lied. "I, um, got it for Christmas a few… er, last year." He'd remember tomorrow to pretend to struggle with the task if it looked like he was going to finish too quickly. 

"Huh." She scanned his completed box and then noticed what he'd drawn on it. "What's that?"

Tim cringed. He hadn't even been paying attention as he replicated his favorite design right on the face of his Wayne Enterprises circuitry kit. "It's a… bat," he replied, pulling the box toward himself and angling it away from her. 

"Oh, like Batman?" She chuckled. "That's cute." She wandered away then to check on the progress of the other students. Tim rolled his eyes. Batman wasn't cute. He was amazing and powerful and dangerous and amazing. 

Tim patiently waited out the end of the day, pretended to search for his parents in the crowd of adults, and hurried toward the elevators that would take him back to the subway station. Tomorrow he'd hang around as long as he could and see if he could sneak into the real R&D lab, but he was expecting Batman and Robin to make a showing down in the Bowery that night, so he needed to get in a nap and prepare. 

_to be continued..._


	2. The CEO

### Chapter Two: The CEO

Lucius Fox didn't forget his run-in with Timothy Jackson Drake, but it wasn't until Thursday that he was able to spare a few minutes to ponder it. He was the consummate business man and he made it a point to be in the know about the other players in the Gotham marketplace, especially Wayne Enterprises' direct competitors. Drake Industries was small, but their medical research showed promise and he'd be a fool not to keep an eye on them. He didn't have much personal contact with Jack Drake, since the man and his wife were often globetrotting, but he'd heard of their only child, Tim, and from what he recalled, the boy was a couple of years younger than his daughter Tamara. Tamara was twelve and in seventh grade. Unless he'd been grossly misinformed, the Drake boy was not nearly old enough to be enrolled at WE's summer technology camp. 

Since his conference call had ended early, Lucius decided to wander down to the department that he personally oversaw for an impromptu visit. He exited his office and stopped before the large desk guarding its entrance. "Annabel," he said, gaining his secretary's attention. 

"Yes, sir," she replied quickly and professionally.

"I'm going to take a short walk. Hold my calls, please."

"Of course," she agreed. 

"And ask Regis for a copy of Tim Drake's application to the summer camp," Lucius requested on a whim. Annabel looked mildly taken aback by his request, but merely nodded and reached over to grab her company directory. 

Lucius' office was located on the nineteenth of twenty-one stories. The topmost floors were a private penthouse meant for use by the Wayne family, though Lucius wasn't sure if he'd ever actually heard of Bruce or his boys making use of the luxurious apartment. Even when acting as Brucie, the obnoxious playboy billionaire, the head of the company never took his dates on a tour of the impressive space. 

The R&D department had the fifth and sixth floors. The associated classrooms were on the fourth floor. In his private elevator, shared only with the other top executives and their staff, it took no time at all to descend to that level. A cursory look at the camp schedule had informed him that the early afternoons were spent in a classroom modeled to look like one of the robotics labs, where the students had the chance for hands-on experiences. 

Lucius didn't waltz right into the large room, instead opting to linger in the doorway and observe the children. It was easy enough to pick out the tiny boy at the large table by himself. To Lucius' experienced eye, it was clear that the child was purposefully putting the pieces together incorrectly and only snapping them into place when he'd noticed his peers had reached that stage, as well. 

The lab assistant noticed him then and hurried over to see what he needed. Lucius didn't know every single person who worked at WE, but he did his best to remember the names and faces of the exceptional staff. Meghan Cooper had been an intern at the company during her senior year of high school and was one of the few selected for the company's most prestigious college scholarship. Since she'd gotten her start in engineering at one of these camps, she's been eager for the chance to work with the next generation. 

"Mr. Fox, what brings you down here?" she asked. "Nothing's happened with the accelerator, has it?" Meghan referenced one of her on-going research projects which was on hold during the fortnight when the camp took place. 

"Not that I know of," he replied with a reassuring smile. "I had a free moment and decided to see what our future engineers and scientists were up to."

"Studying biomechanics," Meghan reported. She quickly described the task set before the kids. "They're all so bright," she said. "Makes me feel humble most of the time, especially that one." She grinned and motioned toward the solitary Tim Drake. "I swear, his brain is bigger than his body."

"Interesting," said Lucius. "He looks a little young."

"He claims he's thirteen," replied Meghan with a shrug. "He doesn't look it, but he's been putting the high schoolers to shame, so I'll give Timmy the benefit of the doubt."

"Timmy?" He faked naïveté to the boy's identity.

"Tim Drake," she elaborated. "Not only is he a computer whiz, but he has this adorable fascination with Batman. I can't even bring myself to tell him that Batman isn't real. I think he likes that guy more than Santa."

"I see." Lucius hid his internal frown behind an external smirk. "It doesn't hurt kids to exercise their imaginations."

"Hey, I bet they'd all be thrilled to get a short speech from the head of the R&D department," said Meghan. "Have you got a minute?"

Lucius checked his watch. "Unfortunately, I'm about to be late for my lunch appointment. I'll see if there's time tomorrow afternoon."

"Of course, sir." Meghan went back to her class while Lucius scanned the group of young ones once more. Tim had noticed him and his head was tilted slightly to the side as he watched the businessman curiously. Lucius nodded to him, earning a shy smile from the boy. Lucius left then, leaving Tim to his work of pretending to not completely understand what he was working on.

xXx

After his lunch meeting, Lucius had a chance to peruse the application that the talented Annabel had managed to track down for him. Like Tim had told Meghan, the date of birth implied that he was thirteen and enrolled at Gotham Academy's middle school in eighth grade. His transcripts reported the same, but something seemed off about the documents to Lucius' trained eye. Every question on the placement quiz that the kids had taken during orientation was answered correctly, in tiny, compact script that barely resembled a typical child's. Of course, no student at the WE camp was typical and Tamara had neat handwriting, too.

Lucius fired up his computer and pushed his glasses up his nose after typing "Timothy Drake Gotham" into Goggle. Given that the boy was so young, he wasn't expecting much to pop up. He did find the announcement of the boy's birth in an archived issue of the Gotham Gazette and while the day and month were a match, the year was definitely different than what was reported in the application. It was a minute relief that his memory wasn't starting to fail him and Tim was actually just under two years younger than Tam. 

Curiosity overrode his moral code and he opened a program that he'd developed for Bruce Wayne's use as Batman. With it, he could remotely access almost any low-security server, such as those maintained by the local schools. He did find Timothy Drake enrolled at Gotham Academy, but as a sixth grader. At least he was in middle school, likely having skipped a grade somewhere down the line. Still, the minimum age for WE camps was twelve and he was only ten. 

Despite the blatant fabrication of their son's credentials, Lucius was surprised to find himself more curious about the little Drake boy than angry at what could potentially be viewed as corporate espionage. A link to a related news article caught his eye and Lucius learned that Jack and Janet were currently in Egypt, and had left three weeks ago. He distinctly recalled Tim telling him that his mother was in the restroom not four days ago. Maybe it wasn't the parents who were falsifying Tim's paperwork. From what Lucius could see, the boy seemed perfectly capable of it himself. 

Lucius fired off a quick email to the director of his R&D department to warn him of an impromptu visit by the CEO. He left his suit jacket draped over the back of his desk chair and headed downstairs again. 

The camp had ended thirty minutes ago and the classrooms were empty. Lucius decided to make good on his promise to visit the next day and speak briefly to the students in Meghan's lab, and then hopefully he'd have the opportunity to speak with Tim again. He continued on to the stairs in order to get some of the exercise that his dear Tanya was always pestering him about and exited onto the sixth floor a few minutes later. He stopped short when he spotted the bright blue t-shirt on a familiar little boy. 

Tim Drake was up on his toes with his nose pressed against the glass that separated the hall from the robotics lab. His backpack and camera waited patiently at his feet while their owner stared in unblinking awe at the on-goings inside. Lucius cleared his throat and the child jerked back from the window and spun around so quickly to face him that Tim lost his balance and ended up on his behind. The boy turned a delightful shade of red and scrambled gracelessly to his feet. "Mr. Fox!"

"Yes, that's me," Lucius confirmed. "Haven't your parents come to pick you up yet?"

"No, sir," Tim replied. "But my dad had a meeting and my mom has to come from across town, so I'm sure it won't be much longer 'til she arrives."

Lucius squashed down his irritation at the expertly delivered lie and offered his hand to the boy. Tim stared at the offered appendage in confusion for a moment before slowly reaching out to curl his tiny fingers around Lucius' large palm. The CEO closed his fist loosely and smiled down at the child. "I was just going to look at some of the work being done. Care to join me while you wait?"

Tim's blue eyes widened until white was visible all around his dark blue irises. "Oh, yes please, Mr. Fox. Please."

"Grab your backpack," Lucius directed and Tim quickly did so without the use of his trapped left hand. He shouldered the small bag and held his camera protectively against his chest, over the red shield surrounding a stylized S. He didn't seem bothered that Lucius continued to hold his hand, not even realizing that it made him seem more like the ten-year-old that he was instead of the thirteen-year-old he purported to be. 

Tim's eyes remained wide as he let Lucius lead him through the maze of experiments and banks of computer servers. Lucius greeted the scientists and engineers, despite not knowing all of their names. They'd almost made it to John Sander's office when Lucius was held up by a weak tug on his right hand. He looked down at Tim and then over at what had stolen the child's attention. 

"That's a radio-frequency beta-class jammer," Tim said, pointing at the device locked under a glass case. "Like the one Batman uses in the Batmobile."

Lucius barely managed to hide his shock at the statement. He cleared his throat and squeezed Tim's hand. "Batman, son? He's an urban legend."

"He's real," Tim argued, distracted, as he moved as close to the case as he could manage. "I saw him use this device to interrupt the sale of drugs once. My phone died, too."

"That's quite the story, Mr. Drake," Lucius said, letting the boy hear the reprimand clearly in his tone. Instead of looking chastised, Tim's narrow shoulders drooped as if the weight of the world rested on them suddenly. He pulled his hand away from Lucius' and drew it up to his chest defensively. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fox. I let my imagination get away from me again," he stated monotonously, as if it was a memorized response instead of a genuine one. "I should go see if my mom's here yet."

Lucius' knees protested as he dropped into a kneeling position, blocking the boy's retreat. Tim kept his head down, refusing to meet the man's eyes. "Tim, it's okay to like superheroes." He tugged on the hem of the boy's Superman tee. "Why not focus on the ones who truly exist?"

"He's real," Tim whispered, finally looking up to meet Lucius' eyes. "He protects Gotham City."

"Okay," Lucius conceded, swallowing down his concern. "Don't you want to see the rest of the lab?"

Tim's passion for technology won out over his frustration at not being believed and he nodded slowly. He declined Lucius' offered hand, however, opting to simply remain in the CEO's shadow as they entered the director's office where John awaited Lucius. John seemed surprised at Lucius' companion, but was game enough to show the head of the division all of their new breakthroughs. By the time they'd made it through a third of the stations, Tim's exuberance had returned and he happily responded to Lucius' prompts to explain what he knew about the different gadgets. His knowledge was profound for one his age, but if he recognized any other technology that Batman made use of, he didn't mention it. Tim didn't even notice that ninety minutes had passed and it was now nearing five o'clock, with no sign of his "parents". Lucius wasn't expecting Janet Drake to magically appear from halfway across the world, but wasn't _anybody_ coming to collect the precocious ten-year-old?

Once Lucius felt he had taken up enough of John's time, he took his leave and the list of supplies that the director needed to further his research. Tim obediently followed him up to the elevator and didn't question it when Lucius pressed the button for the nineteenth floor. He'd scored an obsolete magnetic coupler that was headed to the recycling bin and the device had captivated his attention ever since. 

It wasn't until the doors opened to the unfamiliar hall that Tim finally realized that he'd blindly followed someone who basically amounted to a stranger, to an unknown place. "Come on," Lucius coaxed, nudging the boy out of the elevator. "My office is right around the corner. Annabel, my secretary, always has snacks on hand. We'll call to find out where your mother is."

"You don't have to bother with that," Tim said nervously. "I'm sure she's downstairs, wondering where I wandered off to. I should go before she starts to worry."

"Let's call," Lucius insisted. Tim reluctantly followed the CEO to his office. They stopped by Annabel's desk, who offered Tim a pleasant smile that the child barely returned. Lucius figured that Tim realized his game was up and that he was likely going to shortly be in a lot of trouble. Instead of rebelling, the boy tried to make himself appear as small as possible, as if it'd allow him to be forgotten. "Annabel, please get Janet Drake on the phone. She's running behind in picking up her son, and I'd like to know if she plans to send someone else to collect him."

"Yes, sir." Annabel offered the pale Tim another motherly smile before she picked up her phone. The boy followed Lucius into his office like he was walking to his doom. 

Lucius sat down in his office chair and motioned for Tim to stand beside him. "Tell me what you're going to make of this magnetic coupler," he prompted, taking the device from the boy and setting in on the desk. 

"Sir, I--" Tim bit his lower lip and fidgeted indecisively. His little fingers worried the hem of his Superman t-shirt, reminding Lucius of the other bit of information concerning the boy that bothered him greatly. 

"Or, you could tell me what about Batman fascinates you so much."

"I… he…" Tim hugged himself miserably. "It doesn't matter," he said eventually. "You're right, it's stupid to believe in an urban legend."

Lucius folded his hands together and leaned forward in his chair until his face was inches from the boy's. "You've seen him?"

"No," Tim lied. He reached out to pick up his prize from the R&D lab and twisted it around in his hands. 

"You think Batman gets his technology from Wayne Enterprises?"

"I was wrong," Tim said, sounding surprisingly bitter. 

"What made you think there's any link between WE and a fictional superhero?"

"I don't--"

The door to Lucius' office swung open and the president of the company waltzed in, caught halfway between his playboy and businessman personas. "Lucius, I swear--" Tim took one look at Bruce Wayne and dived under Lucius' desk. The CEO looked incredulously down at the boy cowering against the teak panel of the desk while Bruce mimed a fish near his door.

_to be continued..._


	3. The President

### Chapter Three: The President

The door to Lucius' office swung open and the president of the company waltzed in, caught halfway between his playboy and businessman personas. "Lucius, I swear--" Tim took one look at Bruce Wayne and dived under Lucius' desk. The CEO looked incredulously down at the boy cowering against the teak panel of the desk while Bruce mimed a fish near his door.

"Do you knock?" Lucius demanded, the first to recover from his surprise. 

"What are you doing?" Bruce questioned. 

"What are you doing?" Lucius countered as the younger man tiptoed around the side of the desk to see if he really had seen the little boy for a split second before the child ducked out of sight. 

"I'm coming to vent about S.T.A.R. Labs," Bruce replied. "You're… entertaining small people." Tim scrambled away from the large man when Bruce appeared around the edge of the desk. 

"At least I'm not terrifying," Lucius rejoined. He reached down to catch Tim under his arms and pulled the child out from the cubby where his legs were supposed to go. "What's the matter, son?" he asked, forcing the boy to look at him. 

"B-bruce Wayne," Tim stammered. 

"What are you doing to my image, old man?" Bruce asked, failing to achieve levity. "My name should strike fear in the hearts of husbands and boyfriends, not little kids."

"I got a similar reaction, but I guess CEOs aren't as scary as idle, useless presidents," Lucius said. "This is Tim Drake."

"Hi, Timmy," Brucie said with a cheery smile and small wave. "What are you doing up here with Mr. Boring and Stuffy?"

Lucius pushed Tim forward until the boy was standing before the towering man. He really couldn't explain the child's reaction to the playboy. He'd gotten the impression that Tim's reaction to him on Monday had been somewhat fanatic, like one meeting his favorite actor unexpectedly. Tim looked at Bruce like he was both the devil and his savoir at the same time. "Tim's in the R&D camp," he explained. "He's definitely an engineer in the making, with an impressive aptitude for computers."

"Well, in about… fifteen years, make sure you keep WE in mind," Bruce said. "We're always looking for talented individuals." He swallowed awkwardly as Tim just stared up at him, still looking a mix of awed and terrified. 

It was completely unexpected when the child suddenly sprung forward to tug at Bruce's suit jacket. "Batman is my very favorite superhero," Tim informed him, before turning bright red. Bruce froze in place as the Dark Knight rose to face the threat inherent in the child's innocent statement. To Lucius' relief, Brucie managed to remain in control and the businessman gave the boy a strained smile. 

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed." Bruce crouched down and pulled on Tim's Superman t-shirt. His large hands remained on either side of the boy, as if to keep the child from running off and blabbing his theories to the rest of the world.

Tim glanced down at his shirt and colored even more darkly. "I… well, Batman doesn't exactly have a lot of merchandise, which is to be expected, and I wouldn't have worn this except that I haven't been able to do laundry recently and I'm running out of clean clothes. The, uh, laundry detergent is run out and I meant to pick some up on my way home."

"Drake, you said?" Bruce asked, looking up at Lucius over Tim's shoulder. Lucius could see the computer-like gears in Bruce's mind grinding as he mulled over the strange statement. Lucius nodded succinctly, his own mouth twisting into a deep frown. Bruce look at Tim again. "That's kind of you to help with the laundry, but shouldn't your housekeeper do the shopping?"

Tim looked confused for a minute, until he realized what he'd just admitted to. "Oh, yes, that's what I meant."

"Right," said Bruce, unconvinced. "I realize that we're neighbors, Timmy. I'm sorry that we've never met before today."

"You're very busy, sir," Tim replied. 

Now that Tim was looking marginally more comfortable with Bruce, Lucius slipped out of his chair and quietly left the two to converse while he checked on Annabel's progress tracking down the party responsible for Tim's well-being. His secretary frowned when Lucius closed the door gently behind himself.

"The Drakes are out of the country and aren't expected to return until the week after next," Annabel reported. "The representative that I spoke with at Drake Industries seemed surprised that Tim hadn't gone to Egypt with them. She gave me the name of the housekeeper known to tend to the Drake home. I tried calling Mrs. MacDonald only to learn that she's been visiting her sick sister in Chicago and hasn't been to the Drake house since she submitted her extended vacation request to Mrs. Drake before they left for Egypt."

"They left a ten-year-old home alone for over a month?" Lucius asked, unable to believe what Annabel was telling him. "How has he been getting back and forth to the camp?"

"Via the subway, it seems," she replied. "What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Call Child Protective Services," Lucius decided. He was furious at the situation. He wouldn't even dream of leaving his precious baby girls home alone for longer than ten minutes until they were at least sixteen. Anything could have happened to Tim and no one would have known until it was too late.

Annabel picked up her phone immediately and dialed the operator. Lucius took a walk down the hall to try to regain control of his temper. He kept circling back to his girls and in the end decided that he needed to know that they were safe and accounted for. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial button for his home phone. Tanya answered after the third ring. "Hi, beautiful, it's me," Lucius said, feeling better just hearing her voice. 

"Luke," Tanya said, the smile evident in her voice. "You're calling to tell me that you're not working late tonight and we get to have an early dinner, right?"

"Alas, that's probably not going to happen," he said regretfully. "Something came up last minute that I need to deal with. I just wanted to check on you and the girls before I got back to work."

"We're fine," Tanya reported easily. "Both of the girls decided to get a head start on their summer break homework. Tam is working on an essay for her English Lit class and Tiffany needs her daddy to explain her math homework to her."

"I promise we'll go over it when I get home," Lucius said. "I love you."

"Love you, too. Call when you're on your way."

"I will." He hung up and took a deep breath. He was in control again. Annabel confirmed that a social worker was on his way to the office when he passed by her desk. Lucius nodded and steeled himself to break the news to Tim. 

Inside his office, Bruce had convinced Tim to join him on the couch along the far wall and he appeared to be quizzing the kid from a printout in his lap. The origin of the document was still open on Lucius' computer screen and he shook his head when he realized that Bruce was giving Tim an IQ test under the guise of a game. Leave it to Batman to leave no stone unturned when trying to solve an enigma. Tim seemed very much not afraid of Bruce anymore, and looked at the man as if he'd hung the stars and the moon himself. Lucius decided to let them finish before informing Bruce of what he'd just learned. 

"How did I do?" Tim asked, scooting closer to see the papers Bruce held after answering the last question. "Did I get a hundred?"

"Eh, not quite," Bruce replied. "More like in the one-forties."

Tim giggled. "Don't be silly, Mr. Wayne. You can only get a hundred percent and anything more is just hyperbole."

"You stop being silly," Bruce said, pushing the boy over to keep him from seeing the score that Bruce had written down. The president stood up and walked the papers over to Lucius, who accepted them curiously. Honestly, after spending the afternoon with the boy, he wasn't surprised at the result. The kid was definitely in a class of his own when compared to the rest of them. Bruce was the only one he knew who usually scored better, at around the high 140s. The billionaire returned to his seat on the couch and faced Tim. "I'm really not a fan of your shirt," the man said. He ghosted his fingers over the boy's belly, drawing out more childish giggles. Tim squirmed away from the ticklish feeling. 

"Batman's much better than Superman. He's my third favorite hero."

"Who is? Superman?"

"No, Batman. Superman is like… sixth maybe."

"You said that Batman was your very favorite." Bruce pretended to frown, though Lucius could tell that inside, he was mentally gloating over being ranked higher in a ten-year-old's mind than his fellow Justice Leaguer.

"Ah, sometimes," Tim replied. He grinned goofily and Bruce mimicked the expression. Lucius realized that the Dark Knight had zeroed in on the fact that the child was getting tired and planned to take advantage of that fact to interrogate him on just how much he actually knew about Batman, and how much was just from his scarily accurate imagination. 

"Okay then, smarty-pants, who's your second favorite?"

"Right now?"

"No, last week," Bruce said dryly. "Yes, right now. This very instant."

"Robin," Tim said. He yawned through a giggle. 

"Robin," Bruce deadpanned. He glanced at Lucius and made a face when Lucius smirked at him. "Robin is a brat. You can't name a sidekick as your second favorite hero."

"Yes-huh. I like Robin. He's not as scary as Batman." This time Tim rubbed at his eyes as he yawned, and dropped his heavy head to the padded armrest of the couch. Bruce tugged on Tim until the kid was mostly horizontal. Tim sighed and closed his eyes. 

"That's a true statement," Bruce agreed. Lucius figured that if informed on Tim's opinion, Robin would probably have something to say to the contrary. "No sleeping yet," Bruce complained, even though he was the one trying to get the boy comfortable beside him. "Who's your favorite, then?"

"Night…wing," Tim said. 

"Why Nightwing?" Bruce questioned. He pinched Tim's side lightly when the boy didn't respond. "Timothy."

Tim made an unhappy sound. "'Cause he's the original Robin, and he knows how to fly."

"How do you figure that?"

"They were the… Flying Graysons." Tim exhaled slowly and twitched as he slipped into a deeper sleep. 

_to be continued..._


	4. Home with Batman

### Chapter Four: Home with Batman

While Tim slept on Lucius Fox's couch under Bruce Wayne's suit jacket, the two adults hacked into his tablet and quickly located his digital scrapbook. Lucius was more concerned about the fact that Tim had been basically abandoned by his parents, but Bruce was very calmly freaking out about Tim's suspicion that Nightwing was Dick Grayson. It wasn't even really a suspicion. Somehow the precocious little ten-year-old _knew_ his eldest son's vigilante identity. It wasn't a leap to think that Tim also knew that he was Batman and Jason was now Robin. In fact, Tim's initial reaction to him about proved that to Bruce. 

There were hundreds of pictures in the tablet's gallery and most of them were of Batman, Robin, and Nightwing. They were impossible shots that implied that the photographer had been on rooftops mere yards from the vigilantes, in the most dangerous parts of Gotham City during the middle of the night. Thankfully there weren't any pictures of Dick as Robin, or Lucius might have burst a blood vessel in the process of having a coronary over what the boy had been up to while left without parental supervision. It was bad enough that Tim was only ten now. He would have been eight when Dick created Nightwing. Still, there were plenty of scans of grainy security camera footage showing the first Robin flying by the Dark Knight's side, as well as a digital copy of the story of Dick's parents' tragic deaths. And to Bruce's amazement, the oldest photograph was of a tiny, four year old Tim Drake seated on twelve-year-old Dick Grayson's knee before the backdrop of Haley's Circus. The picture had been taken mere hours before Dick's parents were murdered. Bruce hadn't even known the Drakes were there that day. 

"Who do you think he's told?" Bruce asked as he rubbed at his pounding headache. 

"I think he's told you," Lucius snapped. "He sits alone all day at the camp because the older kids completely ignore him, and his parents surely aren't around to listen to his fantastical stories. He acts like he hasn't a friend in the world and that an adult acknowledging that he exists in a novel experience. So yes, I think the one person he's told is you."

Lucius was clearly still focused on Tim's parents' negligence and not the fact that a nine-year-old had figured out Batman's true identity. Bruce frowned. That was important, but… a _nine-year-old_ had figured out _Batman's_ identity. That was earth-shattering. 

"Oh, get over yourself," Lucius said angrily. "You determined yourself that's he's exceptionally gifted, and it appears that a lucky set of circumstances led to his discovery. I doubt anyone else has Tim's unique experiences combined with his capacity for deductive reasoning. Your blasted secret is safe."

"For now," Bruce said unhappily. "Has your department finished the memory eraser prototype yet?"

"Absolutely not," Lucius said, and probably fancied his growl to be as intimidating as Batman's. Hardly. 

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Explain to him how important it is that he not tell anyone what he knows, destroy his parents for the way they neglect him, and keep an eye on him until he's old enough to work for WE."

"That middle directive sounded rather bloodthirsty," Bruce pointed out. 

"Would you have left Richard home alone for a _month_ while you were on the other side of the world?"

"Of course not," Bruce replied quickly. "He'd have burned the place down within the first day." His joke was met with a deadly glare. "All right, all right. I know what you mean, old man. His parents are despicable. What am I supposed to do about a ten-year-old knowing my secret?"

Bruce Wayne was likely saved from an early death at the hands of his livid CEO by the arrival of the social worker.

xXx

It was after ten o'clock at night when Lucius Fox and the social worker finally left the Wayne Enterprises Building. Even with the long summer days, the sun had already set and Jason was probably at home watching the minutes tick away and worrying that patrol would be canceled. Bruce didn't like to keep his fourteen-year-old up much past midnight, even if Jason was handling the lack of sleep rather well.

Bruce hated canceling patrol, but part of him wondered if he should consider it given the revelations of the past few hours. Jason wouldn't be happy, but occasionally, the billionaire did have to pretend he was the responsible party in his house. 

"Grab your backpack," Bruce instructed, purposefully not making eye contact with the ten-year-old who'd started the evening as his most loyal fan, but now looked at him as if Bruce had betrayed him in the worst sort of way. From the kid's point of view, Bruce could kind of understand how he felt. Tim had gotten into an elite summer camp at the premiere R&D firm in the city, where he knew that his idol worked, and then managed to be in the right place at the right time to meet his hero face-to-face, only to have said hero put the gears in motion to have Tim removed from his parents' custody. 

Tim silently obeyed, his little shoulders hunched as he slipped his arms through the straps of the bag. He cradled his camera forlornly, as if every ounce of the joy he'd gotten out of stalking Batman and Robin had been squeezed out of it. 

There was no point pretending to be Brucie Wayne anymore - Tim knew his true identity and very few people were still at the office this late. So Bruce slipped into his preferred silence, awkward as it was with the kid's hurt bleeding off of him like a bad smell, and had Tim walk in front of him to the private elevator. 

Alfred alighted from the Bentley when he spotted his employer through the backlit glass doors that made up the elaborate entrance to Wayne Enterprises headquarter's lavish lobby. To the unknowing, Alfred's expression would have looked completely benign, but Bruce knew his butler too well to not see the mixture of curiosity, concern, and patient long-suffering at the potential of yet another rambunctious boy terrorizing the mansion. 

"What's this one's heartbreaking story?" Alfred asked after he'd closed the door behind Bruce and returned to the driver's seat. Bruce met the man's eyes through the rearview window. Tim pulled his sneakers up onto the fine Italian leather of the car's interior and hugged his knees pitifully. Bruce let him be. 

"Someone gave him an expensive digital camera and he's been using it to stalk Batman and Robin across the city," Bruce said. "At night, in places like the Bowery and Crime Alley."

"Oh dear," said Alfred. "And Batman didn't notice until now?"

Bruce wanted to say, "Of course not, I knew all along, silly man!" but that would mean he'd knowingly let a child endanger himself, which apparently some people thought was worse than Batman's identity being compromised. He couldn't even justify his slip by claiming that no one in their right mind would suspect an upper middle-class child of being so fool-hardy, because Bruce himself was the one who continuously preached to his Robins that they should expect the unexpected. So in the end, Bruce merely grumbled unintelligibly and tried to change the subject. "But it turns out that Timmy was able to sneak out all of those nights because his parents have gotten into the habit of leaving him home alone for months at a time while they tour the world's archaeology sites. And since I am such an upstanding, concerned citizen of Gotham who is already licensed as a foster parent, he's coming home with us until his parents return from Egypt in ten days."

Alfred's brow furrowed and he looked just as angry as Lucius had been. Poor Alfred didn't even know the worst of it yet, though. "Does young Timothy have a last name?"

"Drake," Bruce replied. Alfred's harder-than-necessary braking at the red light was the only indication he gave that he was flabbergasted by that information. A deep frown joined his furrowed brows and Bruce suspected that the older man was berating himself for not noticing that their _neighbor_ was being so unforgivably neglected. How would Alfred have known? A dense line of trees and plenty of acreage separated the two estates and the Drakes were gone often enough that there was no reason to casually stop by for a neighborly visit. Alfred was too busy for that, anyway. 

"I'm very sorry to hear of the troubles you've suffered, dear boy," Alfred said. He probably couldn't see Tim's tiny form in the corner of the backseat, but his eyes met Bruce's again through the center mirror. 

"I was fine," Tim mumbled, hugging his knees all the tighter. 

Alfred's expression remained troubled, especially when he had to bring up the same touchy subject that had made him hesitant to condone Bruce's fostering of Dick Grayson. "It's admirable to care for one's neighbors, sir, but--"

"He knows," Bruce interrupted, deciding to rip the metaphorical bandage off quickly and brutally. "The whole stalking Batman and Robin thing…"

"It wasn't stalking," Tim said angrily. The terrible look he was giving his knees was likely meant for Bruce, but the kid was either too polite or too scared to actually direct it toward its intended target. "I just… nevermind."

"We'll talk about your reasons later, kid," Bruce promised. "For now, staying with me is win-win. You will have someone taking care of you properly, and I will make sure you don't tell anyone my secret."

"I'm not going to tell!" Tim finally looked up at Bruce and the pain in the boy's face tugged at Bruce's frayed heartstrings. "I haven't told anyone and I won't. I know how important the secret is. I'm not stupid. I don't want Batman to stop being Batman."

"He's not stupid," Bruce agreed, looking up at Alfred. "I tested him."

"When?" Tim asked, suspiciously. 

"The game we played in Lucius' office," Bruce explained distractedly. "If we keep him, I'd like to have him tested officially. He was a 140 on the practice test."

"That was an IQ test?" Tim asked. He looked a little less betrayed and a tad more curious now. "Is 140 a good score?"

"It's higher than most ever score," Alfred stated. "How did you deduce Batman's alter-ego, young man?"

"I'm curious, too," Bruce admitted. 

Tim shrugged as if it should be obvious to anyone who paid attention. "Robin could do things that I've only ever seen one other person do before. They were stunts that Dick Grayson performed on… that night."

"You enjoyed the trapeze show?" Bruce asked. He calculated that Tim would have been about four, and the little boy had probably loved the colorful costumes and the "flying" that the aerialists did.

"Until the end," Tim said. "Sometimes I still have nightmares about them falling." He shook his head as if to banish the memory. "Dick was so nice to me before the show. I got to take a picture with him. I still have it. When the accident happened, I felt so bad for him. I was really happy for him when he got to live with you, Mr. Wayne, that maybe we could have been friends, but that never worked out." Tim rubbed the protruding lens of his camera as if it evoked a fond memory. Bruce had seen the pictures that Tim had captured of Nightwing, and how they had special places of honor in his digital scrapbook. 

"Anyway, there was a news segment last year with old footage of Batman and Robin and I recognized the move that Robin did as one of Dick's. It all made sense after that."

"It was very astute of you to make the connection," Alfred said. He seemed a bit less angry, though Bruce was sure that he was simply having an easier time disguising it now that Tim was coming out of his shell a little bit. Alfred loved children just as much as he loved to complain about the way they made messes everywhere. 

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Tim restated, his lower lip sticking out even as he looked challengingly at Bruce.

"You told me," Bruce countered. 

"I figured you already knew," Tim retorted unhappily. "And it was clear that Mr. Fox knows, too."

"Did you ever consider that knowing who I am could put you and your family in danger, Timmy?" Bruce asked. 

"How? And don't call me Timmy."

"Bad people will try to hurt anyone they think is associated with me. If you know who I am, they'll think it's because I told you myself. Which means that I trust you."

"Nobody minds me," Tim said matter-of-factly. 

"That's going to change," Alfred said with a hint of his earlier anger. Tim curled into himself, mistaking Alfred's ire as directed at him, instead of the people who treated the child so poorly that he thought he didn't matter in the least. It was too late to comment on it, however, as they were pulling into the garage of the manor. An unhappy teenager waited for them near the door to the hall that would lead to the kitchen. 

"B!" Jason Todd Wayne rushed his adoptive father. "It's not fair to make me finish my homework before patrol if you're not even going to be here to check it."

"Shhh," Bruce hushed him. He absently straightened the teen's collar out of habit. "We have company."

"Oh." Jason flushed slightly but since he wasn't reading angry vibes off of the older man for nearly spilling their secret, he cautiously peeked past Bruce to see the ten-year-old sliding out of the car. "A kid?"

"Timothy Drake," Bruce introduced, holding his hand out toward the boy who watched father and son with a mixture of hope and trepidation on his face. "He's going to stay with us while his parents are out of town."

"For how long?" Jason questioned. His sour tone indicated that he was worried that Tim's stay would interfere with their patrols. 

"Indefinitely," Bruce replied in a low voice. He leaned down, under the guise of kissing the top of the teen's head, to whisper, "Be nice. Tim claims that his second favorite superhero is Robin."

Jason still didn't look thrilled about their company, but he stowed away his scowl temporarily. "Hi, I'm Jason," he said, holding out his hand to the smaller boy. Tim tentatively shook it. 

"Tim," he said. Bruce could almost see the invisible strings holding back Tim's inner fanboy snap, just as they had when Tim had first met Bruce, and then the child was chattering excitedly up at the older boy. "It's so very good to meet you. I've always wanted to, but you're very busy keeping Gotham safe and making sure Batman stays in line. I wish I was as strong and quick as you, like that time you knocked out two muggers at the same time and then--"

Jason shot Bruce a look that read, "Is this kid for real?" Bruce shrugged and reached down for Tim's hand. The kid had refused to let Batman lead him like this from the office, still bitter over Batman's perceived betrayal, but now that he was distracted by recounting all of the amazing things he'd seen Jason do as Robin, the boy allowed the contact. He didn't stop his gushing adoration as they walked from the garage and into the manor, then down the hall to the bright kitchen. By the time the boys were climbing onto barstools, Jason was grinning widely at the smaller boy. Bruce figured he'd have plenty of time to sweat the teen's ego back down to a manageable size during their morning training session. 

"Master Timothy," interjected Alfred when the boy paused to gulp down some air. The boy snapped his mouth shut and dipped his head in embarrassment at realizing he'd monopolized the conversation. "I'm sure Master Jason would love to relive more of his exploits as Robin, but it's late and he has work to do."

"Oh, right," said Tim, his cheeks still pink. "I'm sorry."

"Nonsense, child." Alfred patted the boy's back. "If you please, do you prefer white or chocolate milk before bed?"

Tim blinked in confusion at the question. Jason nudged him. "Pick chocolate." Tim nodded, trusting the older boy's judgment. 

"A good choice," Alfred replied, offering Tim a warm smile which the child returned shyly. 

"Go get ready," Bruce instructed, tapping on the top of Jason's head. His son eagerly jumped off of his barstool and darted out of the kitchen. Alfred set the warmed mug of chocolate milk in front of Tim. Tim took a small sip and grinned in gratitude. Bruce rubbed his hand down the child's back to get his attention. "Jason and I will return in a few hours. You are going to brush your teeth and go to bed. You will stay in bed for the entire night - absolutely no sneaking out to take pictures. Alfred's word is law. Do you have any questions?"

"I don't have a toothbrush," said Tim sadly. 

"I'm sure we have a spare or ten in this drafty old mansion," Alfred assured him. "I'll take you to your house in the morning to collect more of your things." Tim sobered at the reminder that his dream of getting to spend time with Batman and Robin was tainted with the rage that his idols felt towards his parents.

_to be continued..._

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers apply: I’m not making any money off of this, the comic book characters belong to DC Comics and their respective creators, and any similarities to real people or places are strictly a coincidence.
> 
> I greatly appreciate every review that I receive. Please let me know what you think, especially if you have ideas of ways I can improve. I cherish all my reviews. I write for fun but I always want to improve, so constructive criticism is always welcome. All mistakes are my own.


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